


Card

by HeatherGiesbrecht



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Blue Eyes, Clothing, Cross-Generation Relationship, Dialogue Light, Explicit Language, First Meetings, Hair, Hands, Implied Sexual Content, Inner Dialogue, M/M, Purple Prose, Rings, Slash, Suits, Teasing, Waistcoats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherGiesbrecht/pseuds/HeatherGiesbrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was quite a nice looking card, rather thicker than most too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Card

 

The first thing Alan noticed as someone leaned beside him on polished oak bar was a thin fingered, ivory skinned hand. His gaze followed it upward through the haze of smoke then stopped. Goddamn, just...goddamn. That was a nice silhouette, the lithe body further slimmed by a perfectly tailored cobalt vest and pants. Really the whole outfit only served to bring out those gorgeous, dark sapphire eyes and wind tousled onyx curls. Seeing how he was in Britain it shouldn't've surprised him that the man was British. Somehow it still did when the man pulled out his card and said, "Sir Thomas Sharpe, baronet." in a low, silky voice.  
  
If he'd been in England more than a few weeks maybe he would've been able to identify Sir Thomas's accent, but as it was he was left awestruck and dumbstruck both. The card as he accepted it was very nice looking, it felt pleasant too rather thicker than most. Here to think that in his haste to get away from his studies he had forgotten his own cards, how embarrassing. His pulse beat in his ears as he flushed slightly, "I-it, ahem, it's a pleasure to meet you Sir Thomas. Unfortunately, I forgot mine back in the university's dormitory."  
  
Sir Thomas teased him with, "Surely you don't need a card to tell you your own name ? That would be rather disappointing, I think." Something about the way the thin brows arched and the man's forehead crinkled made him want to smile uncontrollably. Of course, that would've been improper and he'd not want to be that.  
  
"It would indeed, I am Alan McMichael. Huh, Sir Thomas...," He lost his breath to the thrill when an index finger clad with a silver ring brushed the side of his wrist. There were no other rings, not a single one.  
  
A soft, "Thomas." before the man turned and started walking away.  
  
With a hard swallow, he put the card in his vest pocket, wondered if it was really happening. He couldn't have gotten this lucky, he never did back home. Luckily, he wasn't home and this time he had. Oh he was going to enjoy it. Fuck was he ever going to enjoy it.      


End file.
